Peace
by Taintless
Summary: Only on her wedding day, does she finally find peace.


She'd never done anything quite so risky in her life. She couldn't believe she, Hermione Granger, was doing this. Her! It was so unlikely, after everything that had happened.

She'd dreamed of this day for so long but she'd never imagined it would ever actually happen. She was only her. She'd have never thought that anybody, let alone him, would ever accept her for what she was. She never thought anybody would accept her phalanx of books, would accept her assembly of facts floating around her head, merely waiting for a chance to jump out of her mouth, would accept her plain brown eyes and uncontrollable hair, would accept her for who she was and who she never would be.

"You look beautiful, Hermione." Her mother smiled at her, in the mirror. The smile was a little forced, a little tired but genuine, all the same. Her mother had been through a lot, she'd been through a lot for her daughter, and Hermione would never forget it.

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do, Hermione. And you know it."

Hermione shook her head but said no more, her eyes trained on her appearance. She'd never be anything other than plain. That was a fact, and one she was not in denial about. She was just lucky – luck, that was it – that he had accepted her. She couldn't ask for anything more. She would not ask for anything more.

She looked at her Bridesmaids. Her little sister, nearly a grown woman now. Her old friend, from her childhood, before the Wizarding World. Ginny Weasley, smiling, looking so much older than she had when she'd been a Hogwarts student. Lines showed around those wide brown eyes and the happy expression on her face was quite unfamiliar to Hermione now and had been greatly missed.

Hermione turned to her mother and smiled, feeling her heart flutter a little in her chest. She held out her arm and said, "Shall we?"

"Yes, I think it's time."

Her mother led her out to the front door of the church where Professor Dumbledore stood, waiting. Her mother held on to her though and, when Hermione turned to her questioningly, she pulled her close and kissed her on the forehead. "I'm so proud of you, Hermione. I hope you know that."

Her mother pulled back, her eyes completely dry but with a kind of gentle sadness and relief on her face. Maybe now, with him to take care of Hermione, she could finally rest.

Hermione was slightly disconcerted for a minute. It felt strange, leaving her mother to sit with the rest of the normal people, while Dumbledore walked her up the aisle, in replacement of her father.

Her daddy had died last year of a heart attack. Nobody knew it but Hermione often blamed herself for it. A lot of things had happened in her life last year and, although, being a Muggle, he could never fully comprehend the happenings in the Wizarding World, he had often been racked with worry for his eldest daughter and had felt deep despair when he had seen how much she had been forced to grow up.

_I'm so sorry, _she thought now as she crossed to Dumbledore. Her eyes sought out her younger sister and she, almost as clever as Hermione, gave an almost imperceptible nod. Hermione knew she'd take care of her mother. They'd discussed it often, when they'd had to.

Dumbledore gave her a wide smile, his eyes forever twinkling. It was strange. She'd seen a lot of people change through the last few years but never Dumbledore. He just kept on living. She would always admire him.

She heard the music start up. Suddenly she was smiling. A strange sort of relief and peace filled up in her. The doors opened and she saw him there, slightly awkward, standing there, looking almost too tall for himself, eyes seeking out her own and lips parting slightly.

She had to stop herself from running up to meet him. Dumbledore guided her up through the aisle, just as he'd guided her – and them all – through the hardest times life had thrown. When his part in the ceremony was over, Dumbledore squeezed her hand and gave her warmth.

Yes, she wished her dad was here but, if she couldn't have him, Dumbledore was the best person she could have asked for. He was only other person she would have wanted today.

She turned to him, the man she loved and had done for so many years now. For a moment she felt so overcome with emotion, she was worried she was going to lose control. Relief and sheer thankfulness pooled in her and her chest almost ached. Thank God we made it, thank God he loves me as much as I love him…

His mouth was open and he was openly staring at her. For a minute she was almost shy in his swallowing, enveloping eyes. He looked stunned, and in love.

"Hermione," he gasped, "you're beautiful."

And it was strange because, although her mother had said it before and Hermione hadn't believed her, when he said it while looking at her like that and she stood there cloaked in glittering white, she felt beautiful. She saw herself reflected in his eyes and felt like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. She was what he had made her.

If she met her now, Hermione wouldn't even recognise the angry, uncertain girl she'd been before.

"So are you," she replied and she meant it. She didn't just mean his endless blue eyes and his shocking red hair, she meant it profoundly. Ron Weasley was existentially beautiful – the kindness he gave, his completely ridiculous self-depreciating nature, his complete bravery, his encouraging sense of humour, his strength and patience and his many acts of complete and utter loyalty and _goodness _he'd committed. She'd be a fool not to love him.

It had been easier for Harry but Ron had not been naturally brave. He'd had to face all his fears and he'd conquered all of them. She was so amazingly proud of him and she hoped now that it shone in her eyes, that he knew that.

The face that smiled at her now was certainly not the same as the one that had been there before the Dark Times. He'd changed, they all had. Innocence had been defeated by grave knowledge. Wisdom had changed his views on virtually everything. He held himself differently, he was much more aware of everything. Those eyes had seen _too_ much.

She could only prey that someday his eyes would not possess that haunted look. She hoped that she, Hermione Granger, could take that look away or at least make it fade.

Lines graced his face, the lines of an old man, the result of the many sleepless nights and many new emotions that had come into his life. It was hard to believe sometimes that he was but twenty. He'd had to grow up too soon. They all had.

The priest smiled at them both. The Muggle priest. Hermione would never forget his roots. She was a Muggleborn and both he and she knew it. They had decided to celebrate it here, today. She was glad he understood her so much as to do this for her. She hadn't even had to ask.

It was ironic then that, at a Muggle service, Draco Malfoy stood behind Ron, proud of his position as Best Man. His eyes, that used to be deriding and hooded, now regarded her with the same respect and confidence she'd seen in them since he'd come to their side. His face was nearly older than Ron's, he'd certainly lost as much, if not more. Ron was rebuilding his life, as was she, they could do it together, but Draco's was still in shambles. The content expression on his face now would not be there tomorrow and she enjoyed it for as long as she had it.

It was starting.

She stood through the whole ceremony, smiling despite herself. Her hand gripped onto his in anticipation. She'd waited for so long. She'd almost thought it would never come but it had.

The ceremony was ending. She turned to him, her new husband, and felt a rush of adrenaline. Happiness burst inside her, making her feel like any happiness from before had only been a diluted, flimsy imitation. This was a new beginning. A new life. All feelings of doubt and grief and guilt were gone. They would come back, she was sure, but by then, she would be married, and both she and Ron would deal with them then. She would never have to face anything on her own again. She would never be alone.

They turned to walk out of the church, facing the crowd of upturned faces. And, suddenly, Hermione saw sparkling green eyes. Sitting on the first seat, so close to her now, was Harry Potter. She caught his expression, something caught between sheer delight and child-like pride. He beamed at her. She had never seen him look so _free _before. She knew at once that he was okay.

Of course, she shouldn't have been able to see Harry. She knew better than anyone that Harry was dead, had died after finally defeating Voldemort. She knew this, and yet she had never seen him look so alive in his life. She knew that he was happy.

When she looked again, he was gone. But she was not sad, she was happy. She knew that he'd checked in on them, just to be at his best friend's wedding, and that he was happy. Happy, at last. That was all she needed to know. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Harry.

She turned to Ron, to tell him the miracle she'd seen and saw his expression. An expression, she imagined, mirrored her own and, in doing so, mirrored Harry's.

They left the church, loved ones flooding around them. Just as it should be. Ron stopped her before she got in the car. His hand was warm on her bare shoulder, as his mouth seeked hers. She met his kiss, feeling everything click into place. People cheered around her and, perhaps if she wasn't so happy, she would have been embarrassed.

The kiss ended, but she knew it wouldn't be long before the next one. She turned and waved goodbye. She knew, in opposition to before, that she would see them all again soon. Then, without hesitation, she got into the car.

Ron never let go off her as he similarly waved goodbye and got into the car. They sat there in silence for a second before letting out a collective breath. Her hand found his. The car began to move. Her head found the soft, familiar spot on his shoulder and his hand stroked her hair.

After all the pain and suffering, Ron and Hermione had found peace.

Peace, in each other.


End file.
